


And deliver me hell.

by Moonlessnite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Continuation, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Coda, Explicit Language, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Loss, M/M, My muse is fucking pissed, Sad Ending, Season/Series 13 Spoilers, This is Not A Fun Ride, You May Cry, You should probably read the notes, fuck the writers, love realized too late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlessnite/pseuds/Moonlessnite
Summary: This story picks up after S.13:E.22 Exodus.You will probably want to read "Don't promise me Heaven." There are references from that fic mentioned in this one.Here's the link, or you can find it under my works.https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604057Gabriel is dead.Everyone made it back, except Lucifer, to our world.How is Sam going to live with the guilt from their last fight?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Writers,
> 
> You want to break our hearts?
> 
> Let me show you how it's done. 
> 
> P.S. Fuck you.

Sam has been surrounded by people for hours. 

 

More people than he's ever seen in the bunker in their time there. New, dirty and sweat stained faces. Smiles of relief and exhausted, giddy laughter.  Enemies who have become allies. The visages of old friends come back to life. Back into their lives. His family. Those he couldn't imagine fighting without. 

 

Yet, he feels alone. 

 

The wan, grateful smile he'd given Rowena slides from his face as her gaze moves away. From across the room, he spots Bobby. His and Dean's surrogate dad. Not _their_ Bobby, but Bobby nonetheless. _Damn. It's great to see his face. Hear his voice._ The older hunter’s gaze moves to meet Sam's and he raises his rocks glass in salute. Bobby returns the gesture before turning to smile down at Mary, laughing at something she says. 

 

Dean is in the corner, talking to Castiel, Charlie, and a few of the survivors from that other world. As exhausted and wrung out as he is, he can't help but grin for a moment. 

 

He'd never thought he'd see her again. Hear her voice. Lived with the memory of her sliced up, lifeless body for years. Sam knows, intellectually, that it's not her. Not  _ her  _ her. The girl he'd loved like a sister. The girl who died because of him. Still, he can't help but feel like he's been given a second chance. 

 

From the corner of his eye, he watches Jack set down his unopened beer on the step beside him and wrap his arms around his knees. The lost look and thousand yard stare has been on his face for most of the night. Sam knows that look. He's seen it on his own face a hundred times in the mirror. They'd have to talk to him. Convince him he's better off without Lucifer around. 

 

Except, he didn't just lose Lucifer. His father. 

 

He lost Gabriel too.

 

**_You_ ** _ lost Gabriel,  _ a voice in his head growls and Sam winces. He raises his glass and finishes the remaining liquid in one swallow. That's his fourth whiskey for the night. Enough to loosen him up, and, he thought, quiet his brain. 

 

The vision keeps trying to rise up in his mind. A dark scene of screams, blue light, and blackened wings. 

 

Sam punches it back down and slams his glass on the table, making two refugees nearby jump. He glances up and forces a strained smile. Behind their heads, Dean is eyeing him from across the room. He avoids the concerned look and skirts by two men, heads up the short stairs towards the conservatory. 

 

“Sam!” His brother's voice sounds behind him. Concerned. Persistent. 

 

Pasting a hint of a smile on his face, he turns to face Dean as the other man catches up to him. “Yeah?” Keeps his voice calm. Casual. Makes the conscious effort to not clench his fingers into fists. 

 

“Can you believe it?” Dean gestures behind himself with the beer bottle clutched in his hand. “We got them out. We got mom and Jack back.” His brother's smile is slightly tipsy as he reaches out and slaps Sam on the arm in a gesture of brotherly love and camaraderie. “You know, plus a few extras.” Takes a sip of his beer. 

 

“Yeah, it's great, Dean. It really is.” Sam feels like the smile he's trying to maintain is going to break his face every time it cuts across his lips. He's genuinely happy. He really is. Why wouldn't he be? 

 

They'd trapped Lucifer and Michael away in that decimated, alternative Hell. Let them kill each other. The Devil would never see his son again. They'd gained two powerful allies in Ketch and Rowena. Dean, Castiel, and he made it out alive. They got Mary and Jack back and saved almost two dozen more people. It was a big win for them. A hard fought, much needed win.

 

However, it seemed like every time, there are still losses. Horrible, life-altering, incomprehensible losses. 

 

_ “I'm done running.”  _

 

Gabriel's voice sounds in Sam's head and he feels a sharp jab from his chest radiate throughout his body before he can shut it down. Dean is saying something but the words aren't processing in his brain. All he hears is the voice of his lost angel. 

 

Sam feels a firm grip on his bicep and looks up to see Dean watching him with a frown. Concern darkens his brothers green eyes. The other hunter’s lips move again but it takes him a second to really hear the words. “Are you sure you're ok Sammy? Everything back in working order?” The words are soft. Tone edged with worry 

 

Forcing a genuine looking smile causes an ache in his gut. Impulsively, Sam pulls his brother into a hug. Holds on for just a few moments as Dean's arms tighten around him. Closes his eyes briefly against the hurt in his gaze he knows he can't mask. He doesn't let the sob forming in his throat come anywhere near his mouth. “I'm ok. Really.” He pats his brother on the back a few times before pulling out of the embrace. 

 

Dean’s face is now more relaxed as he glances around the room still full of people. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes another pull on his beer. Sam glances around and notices one woman from the other world almost asleep in the corner of the stairs. “You want to start getting these people settled in?”

 

His brother nods and slides his phone back in his pocket with a yawn. “Yeah man. I was just about to suggest the same thing. We should have enough rooms.” 

 

Sam nods once as Dean calls out in a loud voice, silencing conversations. “Alright everybody. We've all had a long last few days.” A soft chorus of agreement follows his words. “I'm sure some rest will do us good. We've got plenty of extra beds to go around.” .

 

Mary steps forwards and raises her voice slightly. “Everyone is safe here.” A loud cheer follows her words as her bright eyed gaze bounces around the room. Briefly, she meets Dean's eyes. Then Sam's. The cold knot in his chest is eased slightly by the love and pride shining in her expression. 

 

Castiel’s deep speaks up, surprising Sam. “If everyone can follow me, I'll show you to the bedrooms.” The angel and Dean share a look before his brother bounds down the steps after the other man. Taking command. Helping out their new found charges. Doing what he always does, trying to make the way for everyone easier. 

 

Rowena gets up from her chair and reaches out. Gives his hand a gentle squeeze. Her makeup is smeared across her face and the smile she gives him is tinged with fatigue, but there is compassion in her eyes. “I'm sorry about Gabriel,” she murmurs softly. 

 

Sam blinks once before returning the pressure on her hand lightly. He stares down into her blue eyes as she looks back at him. This witch, who saved them all by using her own power to keep the door open when she could have just taken the safer option and run. Finds, unexpectedly, his anger at her has melted away. On impulse, he comes down the steps and pulls her into a hug. Feels her stiffen for just a moment before she returns the embrace. “Thank you,” he whispers into her flame-colored hair. 

 

Rowena’s arms squeeze him with surprising strength before she pulls away and pats his arm. “We'll be alright Samuel.” Her words are confident but Sam doesn’t fail to notice that she avoids his gaze as she moves with little of her usual grace to follow the others. He stands silent as he watches her leave the room, flanked by a few of the stragglers that are still looking around in a mix of shock and exhaustion.

 

As the echoes of voices float back to him from the corridor, he sees movement from the corner of his eye. From his left, Bobby steps up beside him on the stairs, a drink in his right hand. Hands Sam another rocks glass from his left filled with whiskey. Almost to the brim. The younger man gives him a look with a raised eyebrow as he takes a sip. The older hunters gaze sweeps Sam from head to toe before looking back up, directly into his eyes.  _ It’s eerie, seeing such a familiar face looking at me though eyes that don’t really know who I am.  _

 

As if reading his mind, Bobby says, “Now, I know I don’t know you that well boy,” The nickname makes Sam’s lips twitch. “But I’ve seen plenty of loss in the last several years. I know all the different kinds. And I know the looks they give folks.” The hint of a smile is wiped from his face as Bobby turns to look at the empty doorway the others had left through. Like he senses that Sam won’t be able to take what he’s going to say if they’re face to face. He takes another casual drink from his glass and the younger hunter gets a sudden sense of deja vu. The crotchety older man, the one Sam had known, often started important conversations this way. 

 

_ Maybe they’re not so different.  _

 

“I’ve seen the grief that comes with losing comrades. Those you may not be really close to, but you’ve fought beside them. You feel bad. You wish you could have saved them. But, ultimately, you move on and keep going. You have to. You honor their memory by fighting on.” Bobby nods to himself and takes another drink before speaking again in his gruff voice.

 

“There’s people you’re close to. Good friends. People that become almost like family. You grieve those. You grieve them for a good, long time. But you still keep fighting. Sometimes, even though it’s a fucked up thing, their deaths give you fire. Make you fight harder. You keep going because you know they’d want you to.” The older hunter once again nods before abruptly turning to look at Sam. 

 

Bobby’s eyes lock onto his and he can’t look away. He freezes. The older hunter continues on, his tone soft with the smallest hint of grief. “And then…..then there’s the ones you love. Family. Those that become family. Lovers.” Sam swallows, the action hurting his throat. His fingers are like a vise around his glass, the subtle indentions cutting into his skin. “Now those deaths….they can break you. They can kill every bit of fight you’ve got left in you. Cause you do something stupid. Get yourself killed. Or worse.” For the space of a few heartbeats, Bobby’s eyes become unfocused. Sam wonders who he’s thinking of in that moment as he sees the pain deep down in the other man’s gaze. 

 

Wonders what happened to them. 

 

The other man blinks and refocuses. The worry in his eyes deepens as he says in a voice just above a whisper, “It can break you. If you let it.”

 

Sam turns away and raises the glass to his mouth, downing half the drink in one swallow. His eyes are burning and he blinks quickly as tears threaten to well up and spill over his cheeks.  Doesn’t know what to say. Isn’t sure he even has the words to be able to respond when Bobby speaks again in a normal tone. “You have to find a way to come back from this, boy. You got people that depend on you. That need you here. Getting yourself killed won’t bring back who you lost.” 

 

With that parting advice, Sam feels Bobby pat him on the back briefly before he heads down the stairs to follow the others. He stands in silence as pain and fear vie for dominance inside his heart. When the other man gets to the entryway, Sam suddenly bounds to the bottom of the steps, calling out after him. “Bobby!”

 

The older hunter turns, his eyes darkened in the shadow of the doorway. This man, this hunter is who is so familiar to Sam, yet he doesn't really know him. However, as he pauses for just a moment,  some instinctual understanding seems to fill the space between them. “I….” Sam falters for a moment and looks at the floor before meeting Bobby’s eyes. “Thanks. Thank you.”

 

The other man gives him an achingly familiar smile, raising his glass in salute before he turns and disappears down the hallway. Sam stands silently for a moment before downing the rest of his glass. He notices his hands are shaking. 

 

“Sam!” Dean's slightly slurred bellow precedes him into the room from a side entrance. “Come on man. We need your help.” Sam sets down the empty glass and, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, follows his brother. 

There's only one, small snafu as they're getting their guests settled. He and Castiel are working on the same area, near their own rooms. The angel is directing a dark haired man, almost his own height, into the room next to Sam's. 

 

Gabriel's room. 

 

At least, the room he used during his brief residence in the bunker. 

 

“Not this one.” The words are out of Sam’s mouth before he makes the conscious decision to speak and he flinches internally. The new guy looks up at him in surprise but the hunter only has eyes for the angel. 

 

Castiel’s expression immediately softens. His normally gruff voice is as gentle as Sam has ever heard it when he replies, “Sam. I know. It's just a room though. He wasn't even here all….”

 

Sam jumps in and speaks over him, talking too fast and stumbling over his words. “I get it Cas. I do. Just….I mean, he wasn't there that long but….” For a second, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he pastes a fake smile on his face and is looking at the refugee. “We've got some better rooms down here.” He turns and jerks his head to the side in indication for the other guy to follow him. 

 

For a second, the angel looks likes he's going to protest before a look of resignation sweeps across his features. His deep voice is quiet without any noticeable intonation. “Whatever you want Sam.”

 

The hunter flashes him a quick smile before turning and leading the way down the hallway. As he turns the corner, he glances back once to see Castiel reaching for Dean’s arm as he comes out of another room. Sam doesn't stop to see more and keeps going to find a spare room for the new arrival. 


	2. Chapter 2

An hour later and Sam is closing the door after settling his last person into their room. The people from the other world brought their own supplies, making the process smoother. Easier on his nerves. To his great relief, Sam was able to get through everything without any more awkward interludes. 

 

Until he sees Dean coming down the hallway towards him with the expression Sam terms as his “worried brother face.” 

 

Sam groans internally but pastes what he hopes is a neutral expression on his face as his brother bares down on him. He’s exhausted, sore, dirty, a little drunk, and all he wants to do is shower and be alone. The look on Dean’s face suggests all of that is going to put on hold.

 

His apprehension rises as his brother grabs his arm, “I need to talk to you,” and starts dragging him off before Sam can even protest. He yanks his arm free and matches his stride to his brother’s. If he can’t get out of a conversation he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to have, he’ll be damned if he’s dragged into it like a disobedient child. 

 

Following his brother through the empty hallways, Sam marvels out how quiet everything is with so many people in residence. Definitely thankful for it though. His stress levels had started getting better after the final few rooms but it was ramping back up now.

 

The brother's cross over into the now empty main room in the bunker as Dean turns to face him. “What's going on Sam?” Voice calm with no hint of the slur of alcohol.  _ Dean always did sober up fast,  _ he thinks as he opens his mouth to reply. The other hunter cuts him off. “And don't lie to me. You've been acting weird since we left for Apocalypse world.”

 

_ “Well by all means, throw me to the fucking wolves, why don’t you? _ ”

 

Gabriel’s voice screams through his memory and he barely manages not to jerk. In his mind's eye, he sees the golden gaze looking up at him, wide with a flood of anger that had barely covered an abyss of fear. An abyss Sam had thrown the archangel down with his reply. A reply that may have pushed Gabriel and gotten him killed. 

 

But Dean doesn’t need to know any of that. 

 

Sam's mind makes a split second decision to tell the truth. Part of it at least. 

 

“Dean. I'm fine.” His brother opens his mouth to protest but it's Sam's turn to keep going. “Look. I'm glad we got everyone back and we're all safe. I'm just upset about what happened to Gabriel. He didn't deserve that. I'm just tired of losing people.” His tone is normal. Voice slightly regretful. No hint of the pain building in his chest that's causing his stomach to roll or the suffocating feeling of loss binding his ribs so he can't take a full breath. 

 

His brother's green eyes search his. Watchful. Predatory. The penetrating look of a hunter that’s treed his prey. Looking for a sign of weakness. 

 

Sam stares back and lets heat fill his own gaze. Unleashes his own inner hunter and matches the look in his brother's eyes. Lets Dean see what he wants him to see. 

 

After a moment, his brother takes a deep breath and the searching look fades from his face. Sam lets out a silent breath in relief. “Yeah, man. I hate it too. I was just starting to like the little shit.” He crosses his arms across his chest and directs a look at the floor. “After dealing with Kentucky Fried Douchebag and all that torture, he deserved better.” His brother looks back up. “But we did right by his sacrifice. We trapped Michael and Lucifer. We’re safe.” 

 

The pit of fear in his stomach seems to open wider but Sam doesn’t let a hint of it show on his face. “Yeah, we did. We finally got a win.” 

 

“That we did.” Dean finally smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Lets get some sleep. We've still got a lot to do.” 

 

Sam nods and reaches over a table to pick up a few discarded beer bottles. “I'm just going to straighten up here a bit.”

 

A hint of suspicion comes back into his brother's gaze. “It's late. Leave it for tomorrow.”

 

Taking a deep breath and pasting on a crooked smile, Sam gestures with the bottles in his hand. “It'll only take a second. Go. I'm still a little wired,” he replies as he picks up some more bottles and heads towards the kitchen without looking back. 

 

Dean is silent for a few heartbeats and Sam forces himself not to tense up as he walks away. “Goodnight,” his brother finally calls out to his retreating back. He gestures over his head with a hand full of glass that clicks together as he goes through the doorway. 

 

Throwing away the trash doesn't take long but Sam lingers for an extra minute before heading back to the main room. He's relieved when he finds it empty, Dean presumably headed to his own room. 

 

He makes three more trips to the kitchen. Tossing empty bottles and setting glasses in the industrial size sink. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to Dean. It really isn't. Except, he knows his brother will try to alleviate his guilt. Tell Sam it's not his fault. Gabriel made his own choice. There was nothing they could have done. He needs to let it go and move on. 

 

As much as he longs to hear those words, to believe them, he knows doesn't deserve the comfortable lies. 

 

_ It is my fault,  _ Sam thinks as he collapses into a chair, picking up the book Gabriel had been holding before their fight. His mind replaying the last time he’d been alone with his archangel.

 

Sam had tried to talk to Gabriel when he got back to camp. After Lucifer brought him back to life. 

 

_ They didn't have a lot of time. They needed to get moving. Get everyone to the rift. He was wasting valuable seconds but he couldn't make himself walk away.  _

_ The archangel had finally been alone.  _

 

_ He’d stood at the edge of the camp, staring out into the darkened woods. Sunrise, as much as it rose here, was still two hours off. Flickering light from perimeter torches had thrown Gabriel's shadow wildly on the ground in front of him. The dim lighting played off his hair, turning the usually golden locks an almost blood red.   _

 

_ Watching him, Sam's heart had ached.  _

 

_ As the hunter’s blood had been gushing from the hole in his neck. When his vision had faded and he'd been drug away, sinking down into the black hole of death. His one clear thought was he'd never be able to take back what he said. _

 

_ The first thing he'd thought when he'd regained consciousness, beyond his fear at being stuck with Lucifer, was to find the archangel and apologize. _

 

_ He had died again, and only by the grace of the Devil was he once again breathing. He’d been determined to use that reprieve to make things right.  _

 

_ Walking up beside Gabriel before he lost his nerve, he’d directed his gaze out to the darkened tree line. “How are you doing?”  _

 

_ From the corner of his eye, he’d watched the archangel stuff his hands in his pockets. The silence between them had stretched for several uncomfortable heartbeats before Gabriel finally spoke. “Just dandy.” His voice flat. No hint of emotion.  _

 

_ Sam had swallowed nervously and mirrored the other man’s stance, stuffing his own hands into the pockets of his coat. “We'll be cutting it close but I think we can make it.” _

 

_ “Goody for us,” came the immediate, deadpanned reply.  _

 

_ The hunter had winced before turning to face the other man. “Gabriel, look….” _

 

_ He hadn’t gotten any further. The archangel had rounded on him, fire in his eyes and teeth bared in a snarl. “Enough Sam. I don't need you to fucking babysit the poor, limp angel, ok? I get you think I'm completely useless but I'm doing what I can and if that's not enough for you….” The words had trailed off and Gabriel had spun just as quickly as before and started off diagonal to the camp and into the tree line.  _

 

_ Sam had scrambled after him, grabbing his arm behind a large oak. The archangel had immediately jerked away but he’d stopped walking. Directed his whiskey colored gaze to the shadowed ground. The hunter hadn’t thought about what he was doing, he’d just moved forward and gripped the smaller man’s shoulders in his big hands. Part of him had caught his breath, being this close again. Smelled the scent of honey on the air. Felt his heart jump in his chest as he started talking. “Gabriel, please. Fuck. You’re not useless.” The archangel had started shaking his head and Sam’s heart had sunk. “You’re not,’’ the hunter had whispered, the words choking up his throat. “Please look at me.”  _

 

_ The archangel hadn’t moved at first. A minute had gone by before he’d raised his head.  _

 

_ The look in his eyes had almost made Sam cry.  _

 

_ The golden-eyed gaze, the one once so full of life and vibrancy, had been empty. Gabriel's face had been tensed, his shoulders drooping forward under the hunter’s hands as if he was expecting to be hit. Waiting for it. Deserving of abuse. He’d looked more broken in that moment than when Ketch and dropped him back into the Winchesters lives.  _

 

I did this to him.

 

_ Sam had tightened his grip and realized, to his horror, the body under his hands had been trembling. Watching him, the hunter had felt tears gather in his eyes. He’d blinked them back rapidly and tried to organize his thoughts. Make sense. Take that awful, dead look off the archangels face. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t mean any of it. I swear it.” His hands had squeezed once. “Please Gabe….” The nickname had gotten him a brief flash of life from the man gazing up at him hopelessly. “I lashed out at you. I was upset…. and I’m sorry. Please believe me.”  _

 

_ The hunters breathing had been so fast he’d almost been panting as Gabriel had spoken in an uncaring voice. “I’m a weapon Sam. And a coward. I know it.” The other man’s eyes had gone cold. “You’re lying now. Not then.” Sam had felt incredulity twist his features. The archangel had studied his face before letting out a laugh that had sounded brittle enough to shatter like delicate glass. “I’m expendable.” _

 

You’re not,  _ Sam had wanted to yell, but the other man had still been speaking in a voice that was speeding up, rapidly changing from lifeless to anguished.  _

 

_ “I’m never good enough. For anyone. For anything. I’m the weakest and most pathetic of all my Brothers and Sisters. Fuck! No one has ever loved me. My own chosen family sold me like a slave to be tortured.” Sam had realized he’d been talking about Loki and his children. “I’m nothing Sam! Nothing!” Gabriel had wrenched out of Sam’s grip and turned, swinging his fist at the tree behind him. “NOTHING!”, he’d yelled as his hand had connected, making the tree trunk groan on impact.  _

 

_ For just a second, as dead leaves had drifted down around them, Sam had stood frozen. _

 

_ Just a second.  _

 

_ With rough movements, he’d grabbed the archangel and had swung him around, pushing him back up against the tree he had just hit. Shock had fired Gabriel's eyes as he’d looked up. Sam had seen the tears gathering there before he’d grabbed the archangels face and kissed him.  _

 

_ Unlike their only other kiss, this one had not been gentle, but Gabriel hopped on board immediately.  _

 

_ It was a messy battle of clicking teeth and lips being smashed together. Sam had felt hands grab at his shoulders. Swallowed the broken cry that had escaped the archangels lips as the hunter had licked his way inside his mouth. He’d swept back the tangled locks of hair and twined his hands in its softness. Pulled Gabriel’s head back and to the side to get better access. Felt the other man’s tears against his own face. He’d kissed his angel with a desperation welling up from the very bottom of his own tortured soul. Like the archangel was air and life and everything the hunter needed to live. _

 

_ For a moment that seemed to last forever, Sam had lost himself in the touch, taste, and scent of the man breaking apart in his arms. In that one stolen space of time, time the hunter had wanted to last for eternity, there was no doubt. No confusion. No second thoughts. Simply fire and need. Shared pain. Two men trying to put each other back together again with every touch. Every caress. Every kiss that slowly consumed them.  _

 

_ Gabriel had been making soft whimpers with every other touch of their lips together. Sam had finally leaned back, his forehead resting against the other man’s as he’d whispered fiercely, “You are  _ **_not_ ** _ nothing.” Gave him another hard kiss before pulling back again. “You’re…..I need you Gabriel.”  _

 

I think I’m falling for you,  _ a tiny, almost buried part of his mind had whispered.  _

 

_ As he had flexed his fingers against the back of Gabriel's head, he’d never been so sure of anything in his god-forsaken life.  _

 

_ And in the end, it hadn’t mattered.  _

 

_ The archangel had shoved out of his arms, rubbing frantically at the tear stains trailing down his face. His expression had been twisted into a look of unbridled fear as he’d scrambled sideways, avoiding Sam’s gaze. The hunter had reached out as the wonderful feelings surrounding him had been washed away on a cold wave of fear. “Gabriel…..”  _

 

_ The other man had shaken his head, holding his hands out to ward Sam off. His golden eyes had darted around, the look so like when he’d been frantic in the bunker, that the hunter's heart freezes in his chest. He’d tried again. “Gabriel…..please…” but the archangel didn’t seem to hear him, taking off without a word back towards camp.  _


	3. Chapter 3

The edges of the book cutting into Sam’s hand brings him out of his painful reverie. The memories rip down the wall he'd built in his mind and flood him with images of Gabriel's death. 

 

With a sound like a wounded animal, the hunter gets to his feet and swings the book, taking out a lamp at a nearby table with a crash. Stands in the middle of the room, his hands opening and closing, lungs working like a bellows as he attempts to calm himself down. Pain wells up in his chest and swells out through his body, pumping with each beat of his heart. 

 

He's moving before he even realizes he wants to. 

 

Sam finds himself almost running through the hallways, the memory of the fight chasing him.

 

The fatalistic light shining in his archangel’s eyes as he stepped forward to do battle, yelling at Sam to go. The dull thud of flesh hitting flesh. Sharp clashes of metal as blades connected in a battle of life or death. The small grunts of pain, making the hunter’s heart skip in his chest everytime Gabriel was hit. 

 

His archangel’s dying scream as Michael got the upper hand and slammed his blade to the hilt inside the chest of the man that Sam didn't know he cared about until it was too late. 

 

The horrifying sight of Gabriel's light pouring out. His lifeless body falling from his murderer's arms to sprawl limply onto the ground. The cold smile that was on Michael's face as he stood over his fallen Brother. 

 

The hunter almost collapses as his shoulder hits a door. The vision still chasing him. He pushes himself back up and keeps moving. 

 

Sam had screamed at Dean to go. Almost followed him through in the shock that had taken hold of his body. Then he stopped. 

 

_ Lucifer.  _

 

Gabriel had just jumped in front of Michael to save the fucking Devil. The man who thought he'd killed his own Brother eight years ago. That same Brother who stepped up, knowing he was going to sacrifice his own life. 

 

Sam had seen it in his eyes. That last look Gabriel had given him. His archangel knew he couldn't win. Knew his blood would be spilled. That the only outcome of this struggle was his death at Michael's murderous hands. 

 

And still, he’d moved forward without hesitation. 

 

Because he was trying to do the right thing. Prove he was worth something. Anything. That he wasn't the failure and the bad seed he'd spent his long life believing he was. That by sacrificing his light, his life, he could find redemption. Acceptance. Love. 

 

Sam barely recognizes a familiar door and fumbles with the knob. Hands shaking, making the normally simple task almost more than he can do. He finally gets it open and stumbles though. Slams it behind him. 

 

When he looks up, when his vision focuses in the light of the dim lamp, he realizes he's in Gabriel's room. 

 

The hunter shoves his fist into his mouth, muffling his strangled cry. He had kept Lucifer from getting free but the cost was too high. Too horrific. A price that had taken a piece of him that he would never get back. A chunk of his heart that was as lifeless and cold as Gabriel himself. 

 

Sam moves unsteadily towards the bed that still bares a hint of an imprint of a head on the plain, white pillow case. Lowers himself to sit on the coverlet, his hand trailing across the pillow. Finding it cold. 

 

_ This is all my fault. My words pushed him into this. Gabriel….. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Dear God, Chuck, someone…… bring him back. Please bring him back to me.  _

 

The hunter curls up on the bed, wrapping his long arms around the abandoned pillow. The barest hint of honey, Gabriel's scent, lingers in the soft cotton. His heart shatters. 

 

All of Sam's feelings, his guilt, his agony, his love, pour out of his eyes in scalding tears. His voice breaks, cracks, with every sobbing breath as he screams out his heartache. His loss. The whole world's loss. 

 

He doesn't know how he's going to go on normally. To live with this. Live without Gabriel. Exist with the knowledge his careless words broke the archangel and caused his death. 

 

Sam sobs aloud for several more minutes. The material under his face is damp with tears of grief. Wringing out all his pain into the room that's too silent. Too empty. Remembering Gabriel's face. His touch. Their kisses. His light. 

 

As his breathing begins to slow, he takes another deep breath of the faint scent. Knows it won't be long before even that is gone and he has to figure out a way to live alone again. A piece of himself gone because of his own actions. 

 

The hunter lets his eyes drift shut. His mind offers him a small reprieve from the sharp agony. He sees Gabriel's smile. Hears his laugh. Remembers the whiskey-in-sunlight color of his eyes. Thinks of the taste of his lips. Imagines the warmth of the archangel’s body against him as he clutches the pillow. 

 

Emotions wrung out for the moment, he starts to drift down into an exhausted sleep. Marks of salty tears lining his face. Fully clothed on the bed of the man that changed his world, and broke his heart. 

 

In the morning, there will be time to deal with everything else. Deal with breathing. Living. Putting one foot in front of the other. Learning to survive this life-altering loss. 

 

As the darkness of unconsciousness overtakes his thoughts, the last thing he remembers is Gabriel saying his name. 

 

Like a promise. Like a warm, lovely caress. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you can't tell, I AM LIVID. My muse is raging. 
> 
> Gabriel has always been one of my favorite characters. And the writers bring back a beloved character (at least to me), that was still popular 8 years after his "death", build him up, and then sacrifice him as a shock death and a cheap plot device?
> 
> What in the everloving fuck. 
> 
> The one thing I've always loved about this show is it manages to surprise me. But if his character is truly dead, and (spoiler theory) Michael takes over Dean, I'm so over it.
> 
> The same type of thing happened to me with Grey's Anatomy in Season 11. 
> 
> I know I'm being dramatic but, as a writer, I consider that part of my charm. ;)


End file.
